


A Beneficial Favor

by whyamilikethis69



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Museums, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:05:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3151676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whyamilikethis69/pseuds/whyamilikethis69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was the absolute last time he did a favor for Scott without hearing all the details.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Beneficial Favor

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little rusty, but you ask and I deliver. Please give me more prompts.

Stiles was freezing. Goosebumps had risen only seconds after he had entered the museum, and it felt like his nose would soon be a home for icicles. He had never imagined it would be this cold at Beacon Hills Museum of Art, but alas, he had arrived sans jacket and was left with nothing but chills and regret. This was the absolute last time he did a favor for Scott without hearing all the details.

He blamed Scott’s poor decision making when it came to his girlfriend for a lot of things, this time was no exception. Leave it to Scott to follow Alison into college and attempt to take the same courses as her. He had unwittingly trapped himself into art appreciation.

Throughout their fifteen years of friendship Scott had never shown an interest in art. His current grade reflected that, and the only option available to him was to horde bonus points like they were fucking gold. Then, of course, Scott caught the flu, and Stiles was left clutching a worksheet in a freezing museum on his only Saturday off in a month. Friendship was a bitch sometimes.

Glancing down at the worksheet, Stiles could barely stifle a groan. It was an over-glorified scavenger hunt. Not only would it take him crisscrossing across the building, but he would have to read almost every one of the white note cards placed next to the art. Not to mention, the questions were incredibly specific. These weren’t five minutes on Google answers. Effort would actually have to be put forth.

Steeling his resolve and rubbing at his upper arms, Stiles shuffled into the first galley. With each step he took, the wooden floors squeaked in protest. This room, much like the first, was colder than acceptable. The walls were white and the ceiling was open allowing for the ventilation system to be seen. Paintings were placed evenly apart from one another and two benches sat in the middle of the room. The lights were very bright and were free hinging from the ceiling. The room as a whole was a rectangle, and an archway at the other end gave a glimpse of the room beyond.

Walking over to the first piece, Stiles started the worksheet. He briefly glanced at the mess of squiggles and shapes before thoroughly reading the information. It was painted in 1992 by some local artist, and it symbolized life apparently. Stiles didn’t understand it. He could already feel the headache forming behind his eyes. That’s when he saw him.  
Standing in the corner around six foot tall was a Greek god in a security guard uniform. His black hair was styled up, and his stubble should have been deemed illegal in at least nine different states. Stiles could have spent days staring at his eyebrows alone. Eyebrows that were furrowed in concentration as the man watched the museum goers float in and out of the room.

Almost as if he could feel the staring, the guard met Stiles’ gaze. Stiles quickly looked away, and he could feel heat rising to his face. His eyes were poorly glued back to the squiggles and shapes, but he found it incredibly difficult to observe the painting in front of him. He needed to, he had yet to start on Scott’s worksheet. His eyes, however, kept drifting back to the corner.

Never had he been more thankful for the sudden buzz in his back pocket. With a jerky movement, he freed his phone and was met only with the words, ‘r u there yet?’

With an annoyed huff he typed back a brief yes, and in a matter of seconds a response from Scott came through stating, ‘pics or it didn’t happen.’

The nerve of that asshole, Stiles was the one who taught him that phrase. If Scott wasn’t grossly ill, Stiles would have told him to suck it. Yet, he took the high road and with a few swipes Stiles had his camera out. He was greeted with the familiar sight of brown hair and moles. He raised this phone slightly so Scott could see the room around him, and just as he got it where he wanted it, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Stiles spun around quickly and came face to face with officer eyebrows.

“Please do not take pictures of the artwork.” The guard stated, leaving Stiles floundering for a way to phrase his excuse. This close to the man he could read the name badge engraved with the word ‘Hale’ and see the hazel eyes that had met his minutes before.

“I-I was just taking a selfie.” Stiles stammered as he gestured with his phone.

“I know.” The guard said with a wink, leaving Stiles at a loss for words.

“I’m Derek.” The newly named guard said as he lifted his hand for Stiles to shake.

Finding his courage, he firmly grasped Derek’s hand and responded, “I’m Stiles”


End file.
